


Bad Company

by a_dangerous_sociopath



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 21:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/626830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dangerous_sociopath/pseuds/a_dangerous_sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When McCoy gets lost in the mirror world, the crew of the ISS Enterprise have a few questions. They -will- have answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Company

**Author's Note:**

> No, I do not own Star Trek, because if I did, it would clearly be more like Saw than anything else.

"Gave you a stimulant." The other McCoy supplied, as though he were being helpful, explaining what he was doing. "To keep you awake through the... proceedings."  
  
Bones chewed on his bottom lip, nodding slowly. He watched as the other McCoy tossed the hypo aside carelessly and he flinched. This McCoy was so different from him, lacked the care in which Bones treated his own equipment, his own people. There was a distinct absence in the other one's eyes, as though the shimmer of life had been snuffed from them long ago, replaced with a coldness that scared Bones right to the core. Because what could have happened to this man, this man who shared his blood, his genetics, to have made him the way he was?  
  
"You're know you're gonna die, right?" The other McCoy said, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
Bones' voice sounded weak, trembling to his own ears. "Yes."  
  
"Then there's really no point in you lying to me; I'll know anyways." The other McCoy rummaged around through the instruments on his table, kept sufficiently far enough away that Bones couldn't see what was on it. The man picked up a what looked like a rusty pair of hedgeclippers. He gave them a cursory glance, looking them over as if trying to determine whether or not they would work sufficiently for his purposes. He finally shrugged, and tossed them none to gently onto Bones' stomach.  
  
"It doesn't have to be like this, though." The other McCoy said, as he reached down to his desk to pick up a long pair of gloves. "I could kill ya; make it fast, painless." The gloves creaked and moaned as he pulled them on, aligning them correctly with a loud, painful snap.   
  
"You wouldn't even know what hit you." The other McCoy clapped his hands together and began rubbing his palms together, making an eerie, painful sound. Bones equated it to some jerk kid running their nails on a chalk board, but this was somehow worse.  
  
"So how about it?" he asked, giving Bones a look that he had seen reflected on himself so many times, but never like this, never this twisted. "You tell us who you are, why you're here, what you thought you were gonna do, and I won't have to cut a bitch."   
  
Bones laughed, a strange, foreign thing that bubbled up in a strange mixture of hysteria and despair.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
The other McCoy grinned. "God, I was hoping you would say that."  
  
He picked up the shears from where he had dropped them on Bones' stomach and dragged them, the dirty tip pointed downwards, down his stomach, across his groin, and finally tracing a line down his leg. Finally, he reached the cuff of his right pant leg. He shook the clippers open, the wide mouth of the instrument glinting like the poisonious maw of a predator. Bones closed his eyes as he felt one of the tangs slipping in alongside his leg, almost catching the skin in the process.   
  
The other McCoy worked as intently as Bones did, efficiently cutting through the cloth, working his way back up to Bones' hip, making sure to cut through the regulation briefs as he did so. He repeated the motions on the other side, cutting along the seams until Bones' pants and undergarments could be removed without having to undo his restraints. With the same care he gave the abused hypo, the other McCoy crumpled the tattered pants into a ball and tossed them over his shoulder. He then set to work on Bones' uniform shirt, removing them in the same fashion.  
  
Bones shivered, cold and naked on the table, and he couldn't help but wonder if this McCoy purposely kept the temperature in his sickbay cooler, for the discomfort of his patients.  
  
A warm hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts, as the other lifted him slightly off the table, just long enough to slip a large plastic block under the small of his back. When he was laid back down against it, his chest jutted upwards, forcing his head back against the table so that his neck was similarly exposed. Bones knew from experience that this would make the cutting easier, more efficient, but he had never before realized just how vulnerable this position would make a person feel. It wasn't something he had ever imagined he would experience, not while still living anyways, and he could feel himself burning angrily at the injustice of it all.  
  
The other McCoy thumped him harshly on the shoulder, snagging Bones' attention yet again.  
  
"Breathe, man. You're forgetting to breathe."  
  
Bones hadn't realized he'd been holding it.  
  
"Good boy. Now," The other McCoy said, as he turned back to his instruments. He dug around for a minute, picking up a few vials which Bones vaguely recognized as the ones he used for samples in his own sickbay. The other McCoy tossed a few of them on the table, between Bones' spread legs, nearly striking him in the groin in the process. Bones jerked away, but he didn't get far, bound as he was. This brought a chuckle out of the other man.  
  
With very little fanfare, the other McCoy took samples of his nails, hair, and skin, sorting them neatly into the seperate containers. He made note of birthmarks and scars, eyes narrowing as he found a few he recognized. Bones watched him go through the familiar procedure impassionately, knowing full well what was to come.  
  
Finally, the other McCoy returned to the table, picked up a filthy looking scalpel and brandished it with a careless flick of his wrist. Bones' shuddered to think of the germs that had to have been collecting on that thing, but then again, he supposed he wouldn't live long enough for an infection to grow properly anyways.  
  
The other man approached the table, bracing himself with his free hand placed next to Bones' head. With the other he held the scalpel, placing it carefully behind Bones' ear, rubbing almost fondly at the vein that ran under there. He drew a line with the tip of the blade, down Bones' cheek, finally coming to rest at the cleft of his chin. Bones could feel his heart finally kicking into gear, thudding heavily against his chest, as he looked into the deadend eyes of this perverted surgeon.  
  
"Last chance." The other warned. "You gonna play nice and talk to me?"   
  
Bones squeezed his eyes shut. Jim didn't hold the cards when it came to valiant stupidity after all, he thought grimly, as he shook his head.  
  
The other McCoy clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "I'll give ya ten, maybe fifteen minutes before you change your mind. Maybe."  
  
As the other man pulled away, Bones sucked in a deep, shuddery breath and tried to let it out slow. That all went to shit as soon as the other McCoy made the first incision. Apparently, the scalpel was not only unclean, it was somewhat dull, the years of misuse having ruined its effectiveness. The other McCoy had to put a little weight into his efforts, forcing the necessarily deep cuts through the layers of skin, and probably accidentally nicking the muscle underneath, while he was at it. As a result, he was forced to work slowly, working with a shallow sawing motion as he tore a jagged line from Bones' left shoulder, moving the blade along his collarbone and down towards his sternum. Bright red blood spilled up from the wounds, making his work even more difficult, obscuring the path the blade would have to take.  
  
Bones tried to stay quiet, biting down on the inside of his cheek until he drew blood there too. By the time the other McCoy set to work on the other shoulder, he'd started screaming.  
  
The other McCoy stopped momentarily, looking up from his handiwork with an amused expression. "You gonna put that mouth of yours to good use, or am I going to have to gag you?"  
  
With that, Bones let loose the foulest string of curses he could think of, one after the other until he was certain Scotty would have blushed. He pulled against his restraints, bucking and kicking as best he could. He remained just as caught as before, much to the amusement of his tormentor. The other man raised a familiar eyebrow at his outburst and laughed.  
  
"Oh, you got spirit! It's really too bad I have to do this. I would have loved to have heard your story."  
  
"Goddammit," Bones murmured, unable to control the tremor in his voice. He clenched his eyes tightly, holding back the tears that threatend to pour down his cheeks. "Just- just get it over with."  
  
"Oh, if only I could." The other McCoy taunted, with a shake of his head. "Unless of course, you have something useful to give me?"  
  
Bones kept quiet, the only sound in the room his labored breathing, which he could not control.  
  
He heard the other man give a tired sigh, before digging the scalpel back into his skin, and setting to work again. He mirrored the cut on the other side, joining the two incisions in the middle over his chest. Then, he worked his way down, making one large, "y"-shaped cut, the tip of which curled around his navel, and dipped into the top of his groin. Bones remained admirably silent and still, though he could no longer control the tears now leaking from under his closed eyes. The blood dripping down his chest was beginning to pool and congeal around his arms, making him itch uncomfortably. It was the least of his problems.  
  
Whatever breath he had left was forced out of him when the other McCoy began to dig his fingers into the center point of the "y", pulling up the skin there just enough to get a firm grasp on it. Then he used his scalpel to cut at the connective tissues there, seperating the the first muscle layer from the skin. He gently pulled the skin back as he worked, occasionally having to wipe away the blood as he worked.  
  
If Bones had thought the initial incision was bad, it was nothing compared to this. The jagged edge of the scalpel burned him as it did it's nasty work, and Bones could no longer control himself. He cried, screamed, kicked, and begged, begged for death, knowing full well that he was only providing amusement for his captor, but he couldn't bring himself to care.  
  
The other McCoy did not get far in this task.  
  
"Leonard." the sharp tone brought both men to a halt, as they both looked up to see the man standing by the door.  
  
He looked at them in horror, and Bones knew immediately that that was Jim, his Jim, just from the glitter of life in his eyes, something which the people in this strange, fucked up world curiously lacked.  
  
The other McCoy stood, turning slightly to face Kirk. Kirk didn't give him a chance to act, quickly pulling the phaser from his belt and blasting him solidly in the chest. The other man flew backwards with the hit, slamming into the wall behind him and sinking into the floor with a loud "thump."  
  
Jim lowered his weapon slowly, staring at the now smoldering corpse as though he couldn't believe what he had just done. Bones, on the other hand, didn't need a second to recover.  
  
"Jim! Get me out of here!" he said hoarsely, drawing the man's attention back to him.  
  
Jim tucked the phaser back into its holster and rushed to the table, pulling the straps from his hands and feet, and helping Bones into a sitting position. Blood seemed to gush from the wound and down his stomach, and Bones was certain that if it hadn't been for the stimulant, he might have been unconscious already. The thought was appealing, but he knew he couldn't let himself pass out just yet, not when they were both in danger here.   
  
Jim paused again, distracted by the gruesome sight. Bones was starting to get annoyed, now. It wasn't like the man hadn't already seen worse, and he needed Jim's full attention.   
  
"Jim, please, I need you help." He said, louder this time, though his voice was shakier then he would have liked.  
  
It got the desired effect, as Jim looked into his eyes. "What do you need?"  
  
Bones raised an arm to point at a storage unit to the side of them. "In that closet. There should be..."   
  
Jim understood. He squeezed Bones' arm reassuringly and went over to the unit. While Jim dug through the closet, pulling out sheets of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic wash, Bones picked at the loose flap of skin over his chest, jutting out like an ugly hangnail. It still bled eerily, but it looked survivable. Assuming it didn't get infected, (which, considering the equipment used, there was a high probablity of,) he'd just have one hell of a scar to show for it.  
  
Bones pressed the skin back into it's proper place, realigning it as best as he could as Jim returned, handing him the bandages and the antiseptic without saying a word. As Bones bandaged himself up, Jim stood warily by the doorway, keeping watch for security, or anyone else who could give them trouble. When he was finished, he found he didn't quite have the air to speak. Worse yet, he could have sworn the room was starting to spin.  
  
He rapped his knuckles on the table loud enough to get Jim's attention. Jim made his way back over to the table, yanking a blanket off of a biobed as he did so. He threw the blanket around Bones' shoulder's and helped him to stand. Bones leaned heavily against him, immensely grateful for the support.   
  
As they made their way to the door, Bones stopped, looking over his shoulder at the dead body they were leaving behind. Jim tightened his hold on him.  
  
"He's not you, he could never be." Jim said, taking a guess, and not really pinpointing the source of his friend's concern.  
  
Bones indulged him though, and nodded, his voice a fragile croak against Jim's shoulder. "I know."

**Author's Note:**

> Look me up!
> 
> a-dangerous-sociopath.tumblr.com
> 
> hellscomingwithme.deviantart.com


End file.
